


More Than Memories More Than Words

by msbt



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbt/pseuds/msbt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It reminds Daryl of the way Rick touches him during sex and he feels his face is growing red, slight shiver running through his spine. He feels Rick's seductive gaze on his profile, conscious of a now familiar turmoil in his body. It's terrifying. But he has no idea how to stop himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Memories More Than Words

There are not only horrible memories of his father, it's a matter of course that most of them are unpleasant to remember though. Beat. Yell. Crack. Belt. Starvation. Knife. Burns. But Daryl retains a clear memory of the beautiful red of tomatoes his father plucked. How sweet it tasted when he took a huge bite out of it.

Daryl can see the father and son surrounded by the green of the farm. The father, exposing his skin gleaming with sweat, spreads fertilizer and his son drives a spade straight into the ground to dig up a big clump of soil. Then he stops a dig, bending down to pick something up from the ground. The boy shows it to his father as he stares at it curiously, giving his son a bright smile. It's a kind of guileless smiles; he's smiled like that recently.

After getting relief from a crushing burden of being a leader, Rick has become nothing but a farmer and spent most time in the farm or pig hut with Carl.

Tightening his grip on the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder, Daryl passes across the spacious yard of the prison, heading for the farm. The intense sunlight makes him squint tight and wipe the sweat-damp hair off his cheek. It's not long before that Rick notices Daryl making a casual approach to him, the eyes turning to the hunter. "Is anything up?" His voice's light, even a smile remaining there, which dazzles Daryl as much as the sunlight. "Lunch's ready."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Yeah. 'M gonna take over watch in the guard tower," Daryl replies in a matter-of-fact way, returning his stare as he sees Rick squeezing his cerulean eyes just like him. Blithefully, Carl comes close to him, showing a thing in his hand. "Look Daryl, I found this over there."

It's a Zippo lighter covered in dirt. Dull and dirty, but seems to be some lighter with highly wrought relief. Daryl picks it up to get a better look, then shrugs slightly. "Some captive might've buried it in the ground so as not to be found by jailers."

"Can it still be used?"

"'S necessary to dry out it and you hope there is some fluid left inside. I'll try to mend and give it back to you."

"Yeah, thanks!"

"Don't give my son a cigarette," the voice sounds teasing but not mocking, just full of fun. Turning his gaze, Daryl finds Rick giving a playful smile to him. He looks a lot more relaxed now than he did when he gave up his role as a sole leader of the group. The man was worn out from the much pressure of leading his people and always on edge. It aggravated the relationship between him and his son, Daryl thinks. Now here, being just father and son, they seem to be comfortable and content.

"I guess I can try it for once," Carl challenges, staring at Rick with his sparkling eyes. But Rick is determined as always when he shakes his head. "No you can't."

"You let me drink wine."

Rick pats on the shoulder of the boy who is pouting. "Now let's go eat. Put the spade away."

Nodding meekly, Carl heads for a shed with some tools. Daryl watches him absently when Rick looks into his gaze, offering a small smile. "What were you thinking?"

"Huh?"

"When you watched me and Carl. Seemed like you were remembering something."

Snorting, Daryl turns away with a surly reply. "Nothin'."

It's his way to express that he doesn't want to talk about it but Rick doesn't take it seriously, giving his bare shoulder a playful shove with a friendly 'C'mon!', which provokes a reflexive move from Daryl. He shakes off his hand more violently than he intends. "I said nothing!"

In a moment, a smile on Rick's face is gone, turning into a hurt expression containing perplexity and grievance in no time. It gives Daryl a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest and it's too late for regret.

"Fine," Rick replies coldly, starting walking with Carl leaving Daryl behind. Daryl can't look up and meet his eyes directly when he passing him by, just hearing the sound of receding footsteps behind him and gazing inanely at the green of the farm they have grown. The pain in his chest blames him, punishes him. He can take pain, he's known how to deal with them but not this kind of them. He wishes Rick had punched him, given him a vicious kick like his father would do instead of leaving him like this. His mind shouts at him that turn around, catch and apologize to him, but his feet seem to stick to the ground firmly and be not capable of being moved. Daryl himself can't figure out why his body is immobile against his will. Everything betrays him always.

 

 

His brother was the one who taught him how to handle any kind of firearms and his dad was the one who hammered everything about hunting into his head and body. How to track, how to sneak up, how to skin, anything. Daryl learnt them from him even more quickly than he could so as to avoid relentless fists and steel boots, even though he would end up with bruises and burns and gashes all over his body anyway. As a kid he earned an almost severed pinkie and it's still out of whack, hanging loosely around the handle of his crossbow or the hilt of his knife when he holds them at the ready.

He heard Merle had learnt how to hunt too but quit it after acquiring enough; it naturally followed that Daryl did better than him. It was Daryl who grasped the accurate location of Yellow Jacket Creek.

Daryl lets his fingertip trace the edge of the wooden board that's forming a cross. The cold wind carries the smell and groan of a bunch of the dead, ruffling his hair in the golden glow of sunset. Ignoring the world around him, Daryl stares at the cross stood on the ground. Merle haven't rested here, it was impossible to carry the body alone and he had to burn him into ashes then and there. The prosthesis of Merle's right hand is the only thing he could bring to the prison and bury here. In a lonely place far from Lori or T-dog.

_What's up Darylina, you dreamed a nightmare again?_

Daryl can almost hear the voice drawling mockingly. Lifting up the corner of his thin lips slightly, he runs his finger along the wooden board again. When he was little, before Merle was sent to a juvie, he had had a horrible dream, sprung out of bed and climbed hurriedly into Merle's bed more than once. Merle, who would kick him out nine times out of ten, had let him stay infrequently, passing a night watching his little brother curl up and sleep beside him. Very rare, but Daryl will never forget they actually had had moments like that. The hand stroking Daryl's hair and pulling him into the warmth of a ragged blanket. 

There are not only unpleasant memories of his brother.

In the prison filled with darkness of the night, there are a few people gathering and sharing their stories before the outbreak. Daryl who's just got back from the council finds Rick rocking Judith in his arms by the wall distant from the others, remembering bitterly that they haven't talked to each other since the breakup in the noon time.

"Hey Daryl, can you hula hoop?" The voice has Daryl take his eyes off Rick. He notices Maggie is looking at him with an amused smile, shaking his head. "Only girls do it. Never touched one."

"Oh, Merle said you've done it before." Her words cause both of Glenn and Daryl to frown at her. "When did you hear that?"

"When you and Rick went and negotiated with the Governor. Heard the story about your childhood, he barely talked though." Despite her boyfriend putting a complex look on his face Maggie is laughing cheerfully. It's just a shrug that Daryl does as a reply because he really has no memory of it. He's heard he hit his head so hard he passed out and lost his old memories when he was grabbed by his dad's hand and tumbled down the stairs. There is no way to confirm if what his brother told her is right anymore.

They go back to their conversation as Daryl casts a glance at Rick awkwardly. He sees him walking up stairs slowly with Judith in his arms, guessing that he's going to carry her to the crib Carol and others made. The hand comes up and Daryl starts biting his thumb nail. He knows he should say something to Rick, no, he wants to say something to him but can't put it into words.

He's been terrible at words, making a move is what he can do. Passing the others he goes up the stairs after Rick and meets his gaze before finishing climbing up. The blue eyes are calm and unperturbed as if he had expected Daryl's act. It's quite a relief to see no refusal, no disgust in his eyes but it's also true that they're not as bright as they were when he smiled at Carl.

Dropping his gaze a bit, Daryl gets near to Rick as he peeks into the crib in silence. There is a little baby wrapped in blankets. "―Is she asleep?"

"Yeah," Rick's voice is as quiet and soft as the baby's breathing. Daryl stands next to him, catching his faint smile on his lips. His gentle gaze never leaves sleeping Judith like she's the most precious treasure, everything to him.

Daryl is tired of losing people. He's _afraid_ of losing people. Even though it's a brother who causes trouble wherever he goes or a father who thrusts a knife into his son's skin.

Daryl shifts his weight, brushing against Rick's shoulder with his as lightly as a feather falls. He knows Rick looks up at the touch and stares at him, but keeps lowering his eyes, hiding his face with the hair. His gaze is locked on Judith's peaceful face as he feels the warmth of the man through his worn out shirt. Suddenly, the body against Daryl's starts shaking and it startles him. Daryl looks up at Rick who is chuckling frankly now.

"What's so funny?" Daryl frowns and Rick shakes his head without losing his smile. "Nothin'," it sounds just like a Daryl in the noon time. Daryl knows Rick does it on purpose, seeing the cerulean eyes sparkling at him with mischief, which makes him hold his breath.

"Fine," replying bluntly to get his revenge, truthfully to suppress his fluttering heart, Daryl pulls his eyes away from him and looks down at Judith again. Rick lays his fingers gently on his arm resting upon the crib, caressing it slowly, carefully as if to soothe his nerves. It reminds Daryl of the way Rick touches him during sex and he feels his face is growing red, slight shiver running through his spine. He feels Rick's seductive gaze on his profile, conscious of a now familiar turmoil in his body. It's terrifying. But he has no idea how to stop himself.

 

 

It's too cold for his bare skin to be exposed to the night air. He reaches out, pulling the tanned, lean body before him against his without hesitation, ignoring burning shame inside of him. Their bare chests is brushing, warm and firm. Daryl expels shaky breath against Rick's nape.

"Feel cold?" Before Daryl replies Rick yanks the blanket up to cover Daryl's shoulders beneath him with it. There are his poncho and their sleeping bags between the floor and Daryl's back, yet it's freezing cold in the guard tower constructed of concrete like an ice castle.

Holding each other in tight embrace to share body heat, Rick slides his finger slick with their pre-cum into Daryl's entrance skillfully to unclench him. The second finger is pushed into him and Daryl has to bite his lower lip tightly enough to kill a sob threatening to escape, and practically cling to the other. Fingers keeping moving inside of him, in silence, Rick lets the other hand slip into Daryl's damp hair, rubbing his sweaty temple repeatedly as if to trace the scar that Andrea's bullet grazed.

Both of them don't talk much while having a sex, have hardly called each other's name. Nonetheless Daryl feels as if he's loved by the man from his fingers touching him without words. He knows the difference between them and others more than enough since there was nobody who touched him and didn't end up with hurting him. Rick don't leave a scar on his skin. He leaves a squeezing pain in his chest instead.

Daryl gasps at his fingers pulled out from him, and before blinking Rick turns his body to his side, pressing the stiff head of his cock firmly against the rim of his entrance. It's squashed into him from behind tenaciously as Daryl tilts his head back, letting out a small cry. Rick holds the other tight with his arms around his waist like a restraint, taking more time to thrust into Daryl than ever and the feeling of being opened and invaded painfully slowly is driving him crazy with pleasure and want. He's used to taking pain, but not being given affection, and Rick knows it too well. Cursing inwardly, Daryl extends his hand backward to clench Rick's head and Rick, who's burying his face into the broad shoulders as he's drawn and nibbling at the burning skin, pins him down and plunges all his length into him. A muffled scream fills in the thick air as Daryl rubs his forehead covered by the sweaty hair on the floor.

"You all right Daryl?" Rick's voice is hoarse and low with lust, making Daryl's heart beating faster, stronger. His pulse strangely resonates with Rick's throb inside of him.

"Move, Rick, I…," mouth parted, eyes shut tight, Daryl is panting heavily. He can't talk, he can't breathe. He's in the warm darkness. All he can feel is the strong throb inside of him, the heat radiating from the body against him, and the hot breath behind his ear. Rick brushes Daryl's hair from his face, whispering against the side of his neck. "You don't need to say what you don't want to."

Daryl can't figure out what he means for a moment, then opens his eyes and looks back over his shoulder. He sees Rick's aflame eyes in his teary sight, his voice hoarse, arms tight around his waist, almost too tight but Daryl knows Rick's heart is full of warmth, caring and understanding despite the hard edges carved in his features for a really hard time in the apocalypse. He's seen Daryl's scars on his back and chest, the burns on his inner thighs, but never asked about them.

Without tearing his gaze from Rick's face, Daryl swallows hard and does his best to find proper words to express something in his mind, ending up with just panting and staring. Rick kisses the corner of Daryl's lips as he tightens his grip on his body, grinding his hips against his and thrusting into him harder, deeper. Daryl's breath mixed with a moan and sob escapes as a bolt of pleasure tears through him. He can feel Rick's cock expand, grow in length and thickness inside of him so does his. He cries at Rick's fist around his ignored cock, biting down hard on his own hand. There are things that they've decided not to utter or share. But they just know that there is something more precious between them than words and memories.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written many fics already and will post more after translating them into English. I hope you enjoyed this one anyway!


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